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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438836">Prayer for Winter's Thaw</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Disabled Anduin Wrynn, Fade to Black, M/M, Nausea, Slight references to PTSD, Travel, small panic attack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:00:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Duty brings King Anduin far from the comfort and warmth of his hearth after a long Winter's Veil celebration.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Prayer for Winter's Thaw</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Black, ice-cold sea water from the Stormwind Harbor docks lapped at the wooden hull of <i>Tiffin’s Melody</i>.  Anduin’s idle gaze drifted towards the rhythmic sound as he paused for a moment on the dock, stepping aside to let the line of Alliance sailors behind him carry their heavy cargo up the loading ramp.  He had dressed with as much discretion and practicality as he felt was appropriate considering that he would still be expected to act befitting of his rank once on board: a wine-red vest held his cream white shirt snug against his torso, the bell sleeves pinned with gold fastenings at the cuffs.  A thick, plain wool cloak hung from his shoulders, the hood keeping his wheat blond ponytail muted in its shadow.  One leather-gloved hand clasped the cold handle of his walking cane, which he leaned heavily on to ease the strain on his right leg.  The seasonal chill was doing its best to worsen the aches that had crept in over the course of a long, busy day on his feet playing his part in the city’s festivities.  Flecks of wet snow drifted from the sky and were swallowed in the harbor, where the round, gray faces of Azeroth’s twin full moons swam in the choppy surface.</p><p>Anduin’s eyes swept up, almost on instinct, in response to a prickling sensation on his scalp.  His heart leapt at the sight of a shadow with two glowing red eyes, silhouetted in the circumferences of the real moons hanging in the sky.  It took Anduin only a single moment to recognize the eyes as belonging to Wrathion, standing at the edge of the ship’s quarterdeck high above.  The dragon's black leather gloved hands rested on the railing, the heat from his palms melting the snow that had collected there.  Wrathion did not seem to have spotted him, his gaze remained focused on a particular large crate bound with strange chains that rested at the end of the dock, surrounded by five of his Blacktalon agents.  The crate made Anduin’s eyes hurt and a pain shoot through his temple when he looked at it.  When the whispers started to drown out the sound of the waves and his vision darkened at the edges, he realized what it was and quickly tore his gaze away.  When he looked up towards the quarterdeck once again, the dragon had vanished.</p><p>“I’m sorry that you had to cut your holiday so short, Your Majesty.” </p><p>Anduin turned until the brim of his hood revealed Mathias Shaw, who stood at attention not even a foot away.  The Spymaster was exercising a similar amount of discretion as his king.  His red hair was hidden beneath a mud-brown hand-knit cap and he most likely wore SI:7 issued leathers beneath the bulk of his simple jacket and pants and waterproof boots.  His hands remained by his side, ready to retrieve any of the daggers Anduin imagined were hidden on his person.</p><p>“It’s alright,” Anduin greeted the older man with a worn version of the smile he had spent all day donning. “I didn’t have any plans for the evening except to retire to my quarters and put my feet up in front of the fire with a good book.”</p><p>He patted the small personal satchel, hanging by his hip from a strap that crossed his chest and one shoulder.</p><p>“And I even managed to bring the book.  So, nothing much was lost, really.”</p><p>What Anduin chose not to say was how he hadn’t yet adjusted to spending his Winter Veil evenings alone.  It was almost a relief to have an excuse to do something else besides drink a little too much wine and try not to think of past Winter Veil nights spent sneaking plates of leftover cake and bottles of spiced cider from the kitchen into the same parlor when it had belonged to his father.</p><p>“Of course, Your Majesty.” A shadow passed over Shaw’s green eyes but his face remained as expressionless as always as he stepped forward, gesturing to the ramp. “Let’s get you boarded.  I’d rather not give an astute assassin a last minute Winter Veil gift by leaving you here exposed.”</p><p>Anduin laughed quietly and obliged by making his way up the slick, slush-caked ramp, the end of his cane thumping with the sound of his boots against the damp wood.  He exchanged nods with Captain Tandred Proudmoore, who stood bundled in a thick Kul Tiran jacket and scarf, hands clasped behind his back as he kept an eye on the deck hands who were loading the last of the supplies into the deck.  The king followed them below deck into the modest passenger living quarters, where there was a long hallway lined with sliding panels.  Shaw directed him to one at the very end of the hallway, near where the door to the captain’s personal bunk was.</p><p>“You’ll have this room to yourself,” Shaw noted, leaning against the doorframe as Anduin stepped inside the small space.  It mostly consisted of two bunk beds stacked on top of one another and a wooden cabinet with little space left on the floor to do anything else but walk in a short, straight line and turn around.  A familiar traveling trunk, packed with his suit of warrior’s armor and Shalamayne, was crammed against one wall.  “Enjoy the luxury of not having to negotiate for the top bunk.”</p><p>“Luckily I find the lower one cozier,” Anduin retorted, releasing his ponytail from his hood and letting his cane rest against the wooden frame.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to get settled,” Shaw’s eyes flickered down the hall.  When Anduin looked, he saw Flynn Fairwind.  The former pirate gave a low, flourished bow, peeking for some sign the monarch's approval from under the arch of his brows.  Anduin smiled and rewarded the sailor with a regal nod.  </p><p>Shaw’s stern expression couldn’t quite hide the warmth that had softened his eyes. “I must supervise Blacktalon’s boarding to ensure that it doesn’t become something of a circus.  We will be departing immediately after their specimen is secure in the hold.”</p><p>“Thank you, Spymaster,” Anduin said. “And Happy Winter Veil.”</p><p>“A most Happy Winter Veil to you as well, Your Majesty!” Flynn responded as Shaw was just opening his mouth.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Fairwind,” Anduin replied with warmth. “May the Light bless you both and this journey.”</p><p>“Good thing we’ve got a priest with us to supply the blessings, then, eh?” Flynn said, flicking one eyelid closed in a handsome wink that brought a warm blush to Anduin’s off-guard face.  Shaw clasped a gentle but firm hand around the ex-pirate’s shoulder, spun him around and together they strode down the hall, towards the stairs that led back up to the deck, their voices carrying a heated discussion about Kul Tiran fruitcake.</p><p>Left alone, Anduin shut and locked the sliding door behind him, loosening his collar and untying the strings to his breeches as his shoulders released into an unobserved slump.  In a tumble of boots, pants, and other fine garments, he left them to pile on the floor.  The chill of the cabin brought goosebumps to his bare arms and legs as fetched his cream-colored night shift from his satchel and slipped it on, making a mental note to unpack the rest of his belongings the next day.  Anduin pulled back the quilt to the lower bunk and crawled beneath the covers with a relieved groan.  The mattress wasn’t nearly as luxurious as the one he normally slept in, but it fit him better, and everything had a pleasant smell of pine wood and fresh detergent.  He removed his hair band and shook his long blond hair loose, scalp tingling with relief, and wriggled his cold feet back and forth to try and warm the sheets quicker with his body heat.  </p><p>The king settled into the two pillows, murmuring a prayer as he pressed his hand to his right knee.  A quiet groan escaped his lips as he felt the Light seep into the bone and folds of muscle, soothing the day’s pent-up pain that gripped his leg like a vice.  He reached over to fetch his book from the satchel that lay within reach on the floor, tipping the book spine so that the radiance from the oil lantern hanging from the ceiling spilled across the pages.</p><p>With a great jostle, the ship began its voyage.  Sleep still evaded the king as he lay awake, listening to the noise roused by the other passengers as they settled into their cabins.  His interest in the book waned and his focus became increasingly drawn to the voices that traveled up and down the length of the walls.  Wrathion’s was not among them.  In his mind’s eye, Anduin saw himself getting up and padding across the cold floor to poke his head out into the hall, catching the dragon on his way to his bed.  It was unlikely to happen.  With an uncomfortable realization curdling in his gut and a phantom stinging in his knuckles, it occurred to Anduin that any kind of interaction from him would even be welcome.</p><p>Between the hunt for Sylvanas and the endless work required to restore the kingdom’s resources that had been depleted by the Fourth War, there hadn’t been a chance to exchange even a <i>thank you</i> with the dragon.  Wrathion had arrived in Stormwind with the Champions of both the Horde and the Alliance to deliver N’zoth’s corpse and spent most of his time recovering from the wounds he received in Ny’alotha.  Anduin could barely recall without wincing in embarrassment the moment he had shot up in bed in the middle of the night, heart stuttering with white-cold fear, at the sudden memory of his father’s arrest warrant, declared almost the moment his father had stepped foot in Stormwind Keep after returning from the Timeless Isle.  Sleeping peacefully under Queen Greymane’s watchful eye in the Cathedral of Light’s infirmary, Wrathion was still technically very much at large with a considerable price on his head.  Anduin immediately scribbled out a pardon by candlelight while shivering barefoot in his robe at his writing desk, to be announced first thing at dawn.  He’d considered delivering it by hand himself, but was unsure if he could muster a kind bedside manner and there were nobles to please in the petitioner’s chamber that morning.  Some time later came an invitation for the dragon to serve on Anduin's council as an advisor of all matters pertaining to the Old Gods, which was accepted.</p><p>Instead of satiating his curiosity and stealing a glimpse outside, Anduin doused the lantern in his small cabin and burrowed deep beneath the quilt.  In the darkness, his exhausted mind turned over the fact that it would be impossible to avoid Wrathion completely while they were both on the ship.  Sooner or later, their paths would cross again and he would have to make up his mind about how cordial he ought to be...or wanted to be.  Despite the prayer he murmured to soothe himself to sleep, he drifted into a miasma of dreams, watched by yellow eyes that peered out from geometric walls beneath a dark red sky.</p>
<hr/><p>Three days into the voyage, Anduin found himself standing at the edge of the railing, catching his breath after his fifth walk around the topside deck that day.  Through the frosted clouds of his own exhales in the cold air, he watched the ocean waves churn against the side of the ship as it cut through the water.   Apart from taking meals with the rest of the passengers and crew, there was little else to do on the ship but this when he was sick of reading or writing in his journal.</p><p>“Drop something, Your Majesty?”</p><p>Anduin turned to find Shaw resting against the railing beside him, a carving knife held in one hand.  The beginnings of what looked like a kind of bird’s head was taking shape in the small block of wood he held in the other.</p><p>“Thankfully, no,” Anduin replied with a small smirk of his own. “I was hoping to spot a whale.”</p><p>Shaw exhaled sharply; a sound that could have almost been a laugh.  The horizon and even the distant parts of the ship itself were enveloped in a thick, misted fog.  </p><p>Anduin nodded towards Shaw’s hands. “What is that?”</p><p>“An unfashionably late Winter Veil gift,” Shaw replied, curling away a small spiral of wood which fluttered down to the deck at his boots.</p><p>Anduin’s gaze was drawn by a flash of red light through the fog, as small as the reflection of a fat ruby setting in a nobleman’s ring.  Above the crown of Shaw’s red-and-gray hair, Wrathion’s silhouette stood once again at the railing, red gaze drawn off towards something in the distance.  The cold wind didn’t seem to bother him as it tugged at the open collar of his black traveling coat and pushed back the curls of his hair from his furrowed brow.</p><p>Shaw turned to follow the king’s distracted gaze, letting out a small hum of acknowledgement.  Anduin felt his cheeks grow warm and he struggled to find some kind of excuse for his staring.</p><p>“That’s the first I’ve seen him since the night we left Stormwind.” The king tucked his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his coat, letting his cloak fall forward over his arms and envelop him like a tent.</p><p>“He mostly keeps below deck,” Shaw explained, bringing his carving closer to the rail so that he could push the carved wood bits over the side. “Spends most of his time staring at the cargo.”</p><p>From the tone in the spymaster’s voice, Anduin knew exactly what was meant by ‘cargo’ and an image came to him of Wrathion seated cross-legged on the floor, peering at the large crate tinged with the whispers of the Old Gods from over the tips of his steepled claws.  Out of the corner of his eye, Anduin found himself trying to spot the dragon again.  A twinge of worry stroked his breast.  What new burden was Wrathion shouldering now…</p><p>A loud cry shouted from above.  Anduin jerked his head up, the Light heating his fingertips as every muscle in his body coiled, bracing for an attack.  The mist suddenly felt as oppressive as a helmet, obscuring his vision from all sides and more than a foot or so from his vision.  The absence of Shalamayne’s sheathed weight on his back made him feel as if might as well have been standing naking on the deck.</p><p>“What do you see, Flynn?” Tandred’s deep voice cut through the air from the wheel, obscured by the fog.</p><p>“Ice,” Flynn’s response came from somewhere above, where the crow’s nest was perched on the tallest mast, and Anduin felt the tension begin to drain from his shoulders. “In the water, a lot of it.  We’ll collide with the flow in about a half-hour.”</p><p>“Is there no way around?” Shaw called.</p><p>“Not that I can see.”</p><p>Anduin turned back to the water, oblivious to the shouting between Flynn, Tandred, and the tidesage.  The cold shadows darkened around him as he reluctantly released the shielding prayer and watched the Light abate from his trembling fingers.  He gripped the wooden railing with sweaty palms, willing himself not to give into the nausea that gripped his gut, threatening to relinquish that morning’s coffee and oatmeal.  The world seemed to feel a little less real around, worsened by the blurring edges in the fog, his knees wavering beneath him.  A sudden wave of heat warmed his arm, from his wrist to shoulder.</p><p>“Not to worry, Your Majesty,” Wrathion said, his smooth voice just loud enough for Anduin to discern above the chatter, as if the two of them were standing in their own confidential sphere. “I believe we are well equipped to handle this...dangerous encounter.”</p><p>Anduin felt a full-blow blush spread across his face for a single, shameful moment before the blood drained from his face and anger flooded in its wake.  He collected himself in the space of a breath, a small word of prayer rolling over in his mind.</p><p>“Thank you, advisor.”  When he spoke, his words were calm and measured. “I have great faith in the abilities of our capable crew.”</p><p>Anduin turned on his boot, away from the dragon, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he pursued a steady retreat down the stairs.  He was sitting atop the quilt with his boots and cloak still on, ready and bracing himself against the frame.  When the ship at last collided with the ice flow, he was not thrown from the mattress.</p>
<hr/><p>At dinner, the ice flow was the only topic of conversation.  The ice was thick and it ran for miles in each direction.  Much conversation rose from the story of how the Black Prince had jumped off the prow of the ship to pace across the crackling surface, steam rising from the heels of his boots as he helped the tidesage take measurements.  A great burst of fire from his hands had even melted a considerable hole in the surface.  Clearing a path for the ship would be long exhausting work that the tidesage was not yet ready to outsource, for the sake of job security.  </p><p>A few bites into dinner, Anduin folded his napkin and rose from his seat.</p><p>“Are you going to finish that, Your Majesty?” Shaw asked under a stern brow, poking his fork at the tin plate, still full of mashed potatoes, gravy, and salted pork. “It would be a shame for that to go to waste.”</p><p>Anduin turned to find Flynn, seated at Shaw’s left elbow, an expectant smirk under his beard.</p><p>“Fairwind, would you care for seconds?” Anduin asked with a gracious gesture of his open palm.</p><p>“I would indeed, Your Majesty,” Flynn reached across Shaw’s plate to take the king’s, tugging it between their places. “You truly are a king of the peo-<i>PLE</i>.”</p><p>Flynn’s sentence ended loudly with a strange thumping sound as his head dropped forward, fork sliding across the tin.  Shaw reached for a flask at his belt and began to unscrew the top.</p><p>“Have a good evening, Your Majesty.”  </p><p>Anduin lay awake, unable to read or sleep.  The Light brought no calm to his mind nor did it completely soothe the ache from his knee.  He stood up and paced the small length of floor, kicking the tip of his boot against the traveling trunk as he shook his stiff leg with each turn, listening to the quiet clank of armor pieces scraping against each other inside.  When he couldn’t stand the monotony, he cursed under his breath, summoning a small void tentacle from the corner of the room that reached for his golden hair as he stepped into the hall, shutting the cabin door behind him.</p><p>The deck was freezing at night but it offered far more space to roam as he paced, the heels of his boots sliding on the icy boards.  The fog had cleared and the night sky shone deep and bright overhead, the twin moons hanging full in a net of infinite stars framed by the masts, their sails rolled tight to prevent the wind from dragging them across the ice.  A familiar red glow illuminated part of the wood that framed the crow’s nest, which should have been empty at that hour.</p><p>Hand over foot, Anduin climbed the rope ladder, his heavy breaths creating small clouds in the air.  When he reached the top, he found Wrathion sitting with his knees tucked to his chest, a blanket drawn around his shoulders.  The light from his red eyes spilled across the front of Anduin’s tunic as the dragon turned his slightly surprised gaze around from the stars.</p><p>“Your Majesty,” he said with a nod.</p><p>“Your Highness,” Anduin returned, rubbing his palms together. “May I join you?”</p><p>Wrathion stared at him for a minute, his calm expression unchanged.  “...of course.”</p><p>Anduin sank down beside Wrathion, folding his legs up to fit in the narrow space, wrapping his cloak closed around the front of his chest.  After a moment, he stretched out his sore one, letting his ankle dangle off the side into the cold, open air as he bounced his knee.</p><p>“How long do you think we’ll be delayed?” Anduin asked after a while.</p><p>A quiet chuckle rose from the back of the dragon’s throat. “Do you have a tight schedule to keep?”</p><p>Anduin scowled, rolling his dangling ankle. “Not at all.”</p><p>He resisted the urge to move closer to Wrathion’s warmth.  </p><p>“How is the cargo?” the king asked.</p><p>The time that Wrathion spent considering his answer was long enough for a chill to consume the king’s spine.  He did not blink.  His red glowing eyes fixed on some distant light that had traveled from across the galaxy.</p><p>“It is contained.”</p><p>Anduin suppressed a shudder.  He pulled the hood of his cloak up over his ears, exhaling slowly into the night.</p><p>“You’re free to wander Azeroth as you please,” the king said, tightening his grip on the hem of his cloak. “You have no crown to wear.  In the twilight of the aspects, the responsibilities of the dragonflights are questionable.  You’re still injured.  Why do you continue to place these burdens on yourself?”</p><p>Wrathion’s hand crept across his chest to probe thoughtfully at his side.  Black smoke curled from his nostrils.</p><p>“I suppose I have my own private concerns.”</p><p>Anduin felt something brush against his shoulder.  When he turned to look, he saw Wrathion had extended an arm, offering him the corner of the blanket.  Underneath, Wrathion only wore a simple silk tunic the color of dark wine and billowing goldenrod pants, the cuffs of which were tucked into his curled boots.  His body heat radiated outward in powerful waves, melting the frost from the wood planks beneath.  The red star ruby pendant he wore around his neck hung like a dark, sleeping eye in the sweeping neck of his shirt.</p><p>Anduin accepted, shifting closer, feeling the intense draconic heat that had seeped into the fabric soak into his own clothes.  The goosebumps on his arms settled and some of the aching in his leg abated.  He sat beside the dragon prince in silence, picking out familiar patterns from the stars as he felt the tips of his ears grow redder and his heartbeat quicken.  When he could stand the silence no longer, he stole a sideways glance.</p><p>Wrathion was no longer studying the sky but instead had turned his gaze downward, the mustache part of his beard curled with his mouth into a curious smile.  Anduin followed the dragon’s line of sight, which was easy enough to do with the red light hitting the thin vertical bars of the crows nest’s railing.  He saw two figures standing together at the far end of the ship, their bodies hidden from the rest of the deck by stacks of barrels and thick coils of rope.  Anduin recognized the slope of Shaw’s narrow shoulders, his red hair hidden beneath his mud-colored wool hat.  He was arm-in-arm with a taller man with a familiar ponytail that could have only been Flynn.  They leaned in to taste a long kiss.</p><p>“Perhaps we should give them some privacy,” Anduin said, tugging at his scarf.  It was suddenly almost too hot beneath the blanket.  Perspiration was beginning to dampen his chest.</p><p>“I think I will remain here until they have finished,” Wrathion mused, even as he averted his gaze to lock eyes with the king. “They are standing in the spot where I usually build my nest.”</p><p>“Nest?” Anduin repeated, for a moment stunned. “Oh, you mean…”</p><p>Wrathion seemed to enjoy the king’s lapse in composure as he struggled to adjust his expectations, his handsome smile widening by an infuriating fraction.  At last, Anduin wrangled enough wits to ask: “Is your cabin not comfortable enough?”</p><p>Wrathion shifted, rolling his shoulders as he tossed his hair back.  His bracelets clinked together as he crossed his wrists, letting his claws dangle over his tucked knees as he contemplated them. “The bed is fine enough.  I simply prefer to sleep in the open air.”</p><p>“Don’t you get cold?” Anduin asked before taking a moment to think.  This earned him another smirk that set his cheeks aflame with fresh fire. “Of course not.”</p><p>The dragon’s continuing aloofness combined with the <i>faux pau</i> that the king had let slip were, in combination, too much for a mere human to bear.  Anduin pulled his leg in and rose to his feet with a groan, shivering as his end of the warm blanket fell from his shoulder to settle in a heap on the empty wooden planks where he had sat.</p><p>“I believe that I’ve wasted more than enough of your time for one evening,” Anduin couldn’t stop the self-deprecating comment from bursting from his lips, unable to meet the dragon’s eye again as he focused on hoisting himself over the railing and onto the first rung of the rope ladder. “Have a good night with the stars, Black Prince.”</p><p>Wrathion’s voice followed him like a warm breeze as he began the cold descent back to the deck, causing his heart to ache from the imagined affection.</p><p>“Sleep well, Your Majesty.”</p>
<hr/><p>The following day, Anduin donned his cloak and joined the rest of the crew on the deck as they observed the tidesage’s attempt to break the ice shelf.  Wrathion joined her, hands tucked into his coat pockets, head slightly cocked, as he stood with steam rising from the soles of his boots.  Anduin’s heart pounded and his gaze remained fixed on the head of long, dark hair, the broad shoulders beneath their dragonscale pauldrons.  The crimson tails of his embroidered belt fluttered in the breeze that pushed spirals of snowflakes across the ice.  Wrathion had grown so much over the years.  Gone was the arrogant, uncertain prince he had come to know in Pandaria.  Here, in the crystal-clear air, Wrathion was calm and measured as he exchanged complicated words of arcana and earth with Tandred’s most trusted crew mate.</p><p>To the crew’s disappointment, the dragon and the tidesage spent far less time working spells than they did talking.  Soon, Anduin stood alone at the railing, gloved fingers laced as he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.  A small group had gone out to try their hand at ice-fishing through the great hole Wrathion had melted the previous day in an attempt to get a reading for the depth of the shelf.  Wrathion and the tidesage largely ignored them as they collected bucketful after bucketful of writhing tuna and cod for dinner that night.</p><p>“Enjoying the view, Your Majesty?”</p><p>Anduin jumped at the sound of Flynn Fairwind’s voice as the sailor came to rest on his elbows beside him at the railing.  His ponytail was tucked into the sheepskin collar of his long leather coat, a silver flask in his gloved hand.  After a moment’s hesitation and quick prayer to his patron naaru, Anduin took the offered beverage and chugged a mouthful of the smooth, sharp whiskey.  The taste of cinnamon lingered on his tongue.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Anduin admitted, staring pointedly across the vast horizon.  The fog’s recession revealed just how far the ice flow stretched, as if they were primordial explorers who had stumbled across a previously undiscovered continent.</p><p>“Aye, he is,” Flynn said, making Anduin turn his head with a sharp jerk, the tails of his short blond ponytail whipping across his shoulder.  The ex-pirate was staring pointedly at the dragon as he sipped, drawing some kind of rune in charcoal across the ice.</p><p>“I beg your pardon,” Anduin put on his sharpest tone, one that he used so rarely in Stormwind’s court that it always brought even the testiest of nobles to heel from sheer surprise.  Flynn nudged the king with his elbow as he gestured, seemingly unaffected by the change in the younger man’s tone.  A hand-carved wooden whistle carved into the shape of an eagle swung from a fresh leather cord around his neck.</p><p>“Marvelous mind, that one,” Flynn continued, unperturbed. “Just absolutely <i>brilliant</i>.  Spent hours helping me fix each and every one of my star charts these past few nights.  You know that the temperature of the atmosphere can alter the course of navigation by a degree or two?  <i>Well</i>...”</p><p>Jealousy ripped through the king, so harsh and unexpected that it tore the air right out of his lungs, leaving him sucking on the cold wind with sharp breaths as the sailor’s words went in one ear and out the other.  Anduin’s eyes remained fixed on Wrathion’s profile, red smoke drifting upward in the cold air as he focused on igniting the rune.  The few remaining observers clapped, the sparse sound cracking across the still ocean.  The king’s heart skipped a beat as he saw the dragon turn on his gilded heels and lock eyes.  Frozen, clinging to the railing, Anduin watched as with a grand flourish of his hand, Wrathion gave a deep, sweeping bow, the sparks of his enchantment rising in an upside-down shower of yellow and red lights.  Before his head tipped forward and his expression became masked in the cascade of dark hair that spilled forward, Anduin could have sworn he imagined a small, shy smile on the dragon’s mouth.  Silence descended.  The ice creaked and groaned over the rippling ocean surface, but no more or less than it had over the past few days.  The tidesage seemed satisfied as she began to roll up her scrolls.  The crew returned to their posts disappointed and resigned to another stationary day locked against the ice.</p>
<hr/><p>That night, Anduin lay restless in his bed, the Light casting strange shadows across the cabin as he soothed the tension in his right knee and waited for the post-dinner clamor in the passengers quarters to die down. He imagined that even Shaw was, by that point, settling into as deep of a slumber as a spymaster ever allowed himself to be, nestled side-by-side in a bunk with Flynn.  Anduin let the Light fade and slipped on a pair of cotton breeches, tucking the hem of his night shift into the waistband, sliding his bare feet into a pair of thick stockings.  With the hood of his cloak pulled forward to obscure his face and protect his ears from the wind, he crept down the hall, wincing at each creek in the floorboard beneath his boots.  The frigid night air hit his face as he surfaced onto the deck.  Bracing himself, he marched towards the end of the ship, where he had seen Shaw and Flynn entangled the previous night.</p><p>Even knowing the location, it took Anduin some time to discover the obfuscated nook that Wrathion had built his nest in.  The dragon lay on a mattress of canvas and straw, one hand resting on his stomach while the other cradled the back of his head as he stared up at the stars.  His red eyes flickered towards the king in acknowledgement as the man stood, shivering, at the edge of the small enclosure.  The dragon shot upward onto his elbows, surprise lifting his brows.</p><p>“S-sorry to dist-turb you so lat-te, Your Highn-ness,” Anduin heard himself say around his chattering teeth. “W-would y-y-ou m-mind if I…?”</p><p>Wrathion recovered from his shock, shifting to make room on the canvas. “Come, Your Majesty, before you freeze to death.”</p><p>Without a word, Anduin crawled over the edge of the barrel, sliding down to lie on his side, facing the dragon.  Shielded from the wind, it was as warm as it had been in his cabin, the dragon’s body heat rippling through to envelop the entire space.  Wrathion did not relax.  He remained on his elbows, frowning at the shivering human.</p><p>“I don’t believe you are dressed appropriately to take a late night stroll in this kind of weather,” the dragon observed. “If I may be so bold.”</p><p>Anduin felt his cold face grow red from the blast of heat and his own embarrassment.  He hadn’t anticipated  how awkward it would feel to disturb Wrathion in what was, for all extensive purposes, his bed.  He hadn’t thought much of anything but a strong compulsion to experience the warmth of tentative friendship from the previous night all over again, to exchange gentle teases under the stars as they shared the warmth of a blanket.  The spell he’d been under when he ventured above deck had cracked.  He was just an overzealous monarch invading the personal space of a subordinate.  Wrathion was just quietly trying to find a moment of peace for himself at the end of a long and stressful day.  He did not require company, least of all from a lonely king.</p><p>“How long until the ice melts?” Anduin blurted, the first thing he could think of.  He did his best to pull his stiff face into an expression befitting one he would wear while holding court from the Lion’s Seat.</p><p>Wrathion blinked.  Once.  Twice.  Three times his dark eyelashes fluttered, darkening the warm red light that they cast across the rope, barrel, and canvas nest.</p><p>“It’s difficult to say,” Wrathion began, his voice measured and slow, the gears clearly working in the back of his mind to puzzle out the enigma that lay in-between the king’s words. “Tidesage Lorena thinks it could be a day, I estimate it might take as long as three.  It’s a delicate process.  We don’t wish to disturb the ecosystem…”</p><p>“Nevermind,” Anduin fumbled again, wrapping the edges of his cloak around his cold hands, crossing his ankles tightly beneath the folds. “In truth, I...wanted to apologize.  For punching you.”</p><p>The red light flickered as Wrathion blinked, once.</p><p>“That happened months ago, Your Majesty,” the dragon said, pointedly. “During this entire time I’ve been a guest in your Keep and an advisor in your personal council.  I assumed…”</p><p>“I know,” Anduin shot back, cheeks redder than ever. “All the same.  I never did say the words.”</p><p>“I believe you did issue a pardon...”</p><p>“A pardon isn’t the same thing as an apology.”</p><p>Wrathion was quiet for a moment. “Well, then...I accept your apology.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>After a while, Anduin’s frantic breathing slowed to a series of quiet hums as he shivered beneath his cloak.  He was working on the courage to sit up and crawl back out into the frigid air, when Wrathion slid down to turn and rest on his side, facing Anduin.</p><p>“It’s fortunate that you decided to abandon the warmth of your cabin to grant me an audience,” the dragon said, tucking one arm beneath his head and letting the other fall between them. “It just so happens that this evening I’ve been contemplating one or two thoughts that I would like to get His Majesty’s opinion on.”</p><p>It was Anduin’s turn to stare, locking his jaw shut to prevent it from gaping. “Have you...?  What...what is it that you’ve been thinking about?”</p><p>Wrathion nodded, his claws tracing a small tatter in the folds of fabric beneath them. “I’ve set some of my agents to the task of gathering information so that I may acclimate to Stormwind society.  I thought it would be prudent for an advisor to the king to be familiar with the ways of his people so that I might better serve him.”</p><p>Anduin nodded, his mouth drawn into a grim line. “Has anyone in my court given you grief, Black Prince?”</p><p>With a flick of his wrist, the dragon shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that, Your Majesty.  After years of war and the resurgence of Old Gods, your subjects are wary but...rather unimpressed by the sight of a single black dragon occasionally wandering the streets in search of pastries or a new pair of tailor’s shears.”</p><p>Anduin tried not to smile at the thought of Wrathion standing in one of Stormwind’s many bakeries, hands clasped behind his back as his red eyes flickered over rows of freshly frosted cupcakes. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.  I can answer your questions as best I can, but I’m not sure if I’d be able to offer better information than Blacktalon can scrounge up.  We aren’t a secretive people.”</p><p>Wrathion’s red eyes flickered upward. “No, you are not.”</p><p>Anduin’s face flushed hotter.  He tipped his chin upward, meeting Wrathion’s pointed stare.</p><p>“Perhaps Your Majesty could assist me in the answer to one quandary,” the dragon said, his voice quiet, eyes darkening as if he were bracing for an attack.  Anduin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. “How does one initiate a courtship with someone of a higher rank?”</p><p>Anduin’s heart leapt into his throat.  He swore he saw the faintest twitch at the corner of Wrathion’s mouth in the shadow.</p><p>“Ah, well,” Anduin’s voice came thick and slow from the back of his throat as he shifted. “One doesn’t.  In Stormwind, it is only proper to wait in such a case.”</p><p>Wrathion hummed, a sound so quiet Anduin might not have heard it if they hadn’t been on a ship in the middle of the still ocean, locked against the wall of an unrelenting ice flow. “I see.”</p><p>The smallest wisp of smoke curled from his nostrils, dimming the light for a brief moment as it passed over his eyes.  Anduin felt his heart twist, an ache so terrible and deep that he made a decision, and reached out to take Wrathion’s bare hand in his gloved one.  The dragon flinched but did not pull his hand away.  His gaze widened a fraction, but remained as calm and elusive as it had been ever since his return from Ny’alotha.</p><p>“Wrathion,” Anduin said, his voice cracking. “I am so very sorry.”</p><p>Another rumble left the dragon’s throat as he exhaled, his gaze softening. “Your Majesty.”</p><p>The king leaned over to press his lips to the back of Wrathion’s warm hand.  He continued, pressing his lips to each knuckle, then across the back.  Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he gripped the hand like a lifeline in the ocean water.  The dragon remained still like an animal caught in a snare, but when Anduin risked a glance upward, he saw a small smirk that made his heart flutter.</p><p>Anduin pushed Wrathion’s thick, dark brown hair back, exposing the long curve of the dragon's mortal neck, the thick veins that ran beneath the skin and the pulse within.  He tilted his chin forward and his hesitant lips found the dragon’s.  Wrathion welcomed him into an embrace, entwining his legs around the king’s.  Anduin groaned as he felt the dragon’s heat seep into him, like holding something that had been held in fire.</p><p>“Just Anduin,” the king heard himself say as he felt Wrathion’s teeth brush across his lip, tugging gently with an invitation.</p><p>Wrathion’s eyelids fluttered open, Anduin's hand cupping his mortal face.  His dark brows were raised in just the slightest surprise, as if he were struggling to acclimate to the shift in decorum, like the universe had begun to spin the stars around them.</p><p>“<i>Anduin</i>,” he said, quietly, drawing a shudder from the human.  Wrathion tucked a strand of the king’s fair hair behind his ear, stroking the skin of his jaw and feeling the light stubble that had only begun to sprout. “My dear king.”</p><p>Anduin sucked in his breath, a small smirk crossing his own mouth at the sound of both his name and the retreat into the familiar title.  He surrendered to Wrathion's exploratory touch, the first he had experienced in years, letting the dragon hold him in a warm embrace and returning it in kind as best he could.  The next words escaped from his lips right into the dragon's closest ear almost like a blessing, oil to wash away any lingering sins in absolution.  </p><p>“Where would this foolish king be without his wise advisor?”</p>
<hr/><p>The first cold light of dawn spilled over <i>Tiffin’s Melody</i>, white and pink on the lightly misted horizon.  As the warm rays reached the ice flow, the fingers of a long, deep <i>crack</i> thundered across the surface, splitting the shelf and rousing the king from his sleep.  Anduin flinched, mind reeling as he struggled to comprehend his surroundings, not recognizing either his bedroom nor the ship’s cabin.  He kicked something that was surprisingly soft and the small grunt it provoked grounded him in the tangle of fabric: cloaks, a coat, a scarf, piles of blankets all bunched and cradled around him.  The sunlight streamed in bright, unblocked rays through the open air overhead.  Frost glittered in small pink and blue rainbows where it had accumulated overnight in a thin film on the rims of the stacked wooden barrels and crates that blocked the nest from the wind and prying eyes.  Anduin found that he was perfectly, deliciously warm despite being dressed in only his night shift and pants, his feet bare, boots and socks both in a confusing heap near his head.  Wrathion’s face came into focus, tired but eyes bright red and gleaming.</p><p>“Ah,” the dragon said, quietly, leaning into Anduin’s touch as the king took his bearded jaw in his calloused palm.  His face, which Anduin had become all too accustomed to seeing tense with mortal lines of concern and worry, was now soft with ease and contentment.  Anduin rubbed his thumb through the dark beard across the jawbone, the ship rocking beneath them in the churning waves.  He allowed himself to enjoy the deep hum of pleasure that the simple gesture provoked before it was drowned in the cascading shouts of the crew.  It was a distant sound that the king didn’t care to be worried about just yet, not with Wrathion’s warm fingers slipping beneath the hem of his night shift to explore the old scars on his back, not with his red eyes locked in a warm, affectionate gaze, perfectly content from a good night's rest.  “That would be the thaw.”</p>
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